Be Beautiful For Him
by Nine1
Summary: Daisuke writes about his hero. Daikeru, one-shot, warning for language, implied sexual situations, eating disorders, self-abuse, and depression. Need I say angst, as well?


A/N: One of the three Daikeru fics I've decided to upload for no real reason at all. It was just sitting there on my Documents window...waiting to be finished. Um. Beware the sappiness. And the language. And the Daisuke-ness. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, and if you think I do, you must be new around here. 

I used to hate to eat. Food was disgusting to me. I didn't think I needed it, and I loathed its existence and the fact that I had to rely on such a thing just to live. If you called what I had a life, that is. I was skinny as fuck, and I thought I was beautiful like that. My friends sensed right away I wasn't quite right in the head and scattered. Only one of them stayed. Only one was there when my life went to shit and I desperately needed someone, anyone, to help pick me back up from where I'd crash-landed on the ground. 

Once, I wrote a note to myself, listing all of the reasons I should continue to live my pitiful excuse for a life, and all of the reasons I should end it myself as soon as possible. I came up with more of the latter, and I had decided to go ahead and go through with it, but HE caught me staring at the list in a corner of my room when he came over to my house that afternoon, and he shred it up and made me promise I wouldn't try anything or hurt myself. That wasn't the only time he saved my life.

I used to lay in my bed dreading having to get up and face the day. My mother would have to call him to tell him to come over and drag me out of bed. I would wonder, every morning, if I was a burden to him, as he pulled me out of bed by my bone-thin scarred wrists and placed my goggles on my head. He constantly assured me I was worth everything, and he even told me he loved me sometimes. I never knew if he was being truthful or not. I always kept myself from believing him, not wanting to get my hopes up over something that could fall to pieces like so many things already had before. I didn't want the most precious relationship I'd ever had to die. I treasured that relationship above all else in my life. It may have been the only thing I ever treasured at all.

I remember going to school and getting called all sorts of ugly, mean names. Kids would kick me, spit on me, insult me, and laugh at me on a daily basis. He would stand next to me when he could, trading insults with them and defending me the whole way. 

He would try to get me to eat. He always tried to convince me that food was not my worst enemy, and neither was the world. I at least tried to believe the former. I never believed the latter, because I knew it was a lie he told me to try and make me smile again. He loved it when I smiled. He told me I looked prettier when I smiled, that I was sexy right after eating, and that there was always a chance that tomorrow would be so much better. He gave me hope. He had so much hope himself, he had plenty to spare to lend me when I needed it.

A few years later, we fucked. I was scared. It hurt at first, but the pain felt almost too good. It felt too real. It scared me that he could make me feel so wonderful. I didn't think I deserved something that felt so fucking good. After we were done, I apologized. I'm not sure why I did. It just slipped out of my mouth. He got mad and said that at least _he _wasn't sorry for what we'd just done. He said he did it because he loved me. I started crying and he got scared because he'd never seen me cry before, and by the time I calmed down again we were so exhausted that we fell asleep like that, with the room still stinking and the sheets still drying. I never even got to tell him I wasn't sorry for having sex with him. 

After that, things were a little uneasy between us. We weren't sure how to act around each other after we'd slept with each other and shared something so intimate. Soon, though, we had a talk about it, and then we didn't feel so awkward around each other. Especially after we started making love on a regular basis. After the first couple of times, it stopped hurting, and it just felt great. I loved it. I loved him. 

Now, I eat more than I used to. I'm not skeletal anymore, just thin. I grew a few inches and he doesn't tower over me anymore. I don't feel like I need to be able to feel my ribcage when I touch my chest in order to feel beautiful. I don't make lists about why I should die or which way I would kill myself if I had the chance. I don't do drugs (well, I smoke occasionally, but I'm not dependant or addicted), I don't drink too often, I don't get super insecure about my relationship with him, and the scars on my wrists are fading after such a long period of not abusing myself. Things are easier to take every day, and I know that if I ever get sad again, he'll be there for me. 

He's my own personal guardian angel of Hope. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, his optimistic demeanor, and his words of encouragement, he looks like he really is an angel. However, I've seen the darkness in him. He has a small mean streak, and he likes to piss people off when he's in a bad mood. He's good at cursing, and he could probably insult someone even better than I could ever hope to. When he gets horny, I don't expect to leave the bedroom for at least a few hours. He enjoys the art of sarcasm and uses it often in casual conversation. Hell, if he really were such an angelic person, there's no way he would be able to have a relationship with someone as fucked up as I am. To do that, you need to sympathize with the person, and that involves mental duress and a tainting of the thoughts. Takeru handles my bad moods surprisingly well. In fact, it may be a bit too well, which is why I'm sure he's had plenty of practice with his unstable older brother. 

I've even had to be his own one-man support group. It doesn't happen habitually, but every-so-often he needs me to be there for him instead of me needing him. I do my best to stick by his side, trying to repay him for a favor I will never be able to fully pay off. 

Day by day, it's getting easier to be beautiful for him. It's getting easier to smile, to laugh, and to be happy. It's getting easier for him to be himself again instead of hiding behind a false identity he created as a child. 

It's getting easier to go outside into the world and not cross my arms over my chest or stare at the floor constantly. I see the sun more often. My skin is getting that bronze tan back slowly but surely, and I don't look so sickly anymore. People have gradually stopped asking me if I'm okay everywhere I go. I'm wearing less and less bracelets on my arms as the scars are becoming less noticeable. My clothes fit better. I still don't trust anyone but him, but I'm not totally cold to other people anymore. My attitude is getting better. I've stopped snapping at people when I'm not ignoring them completely. I don't get violently angry when something pisses me off. Takeru has taught me that it's better to talk about it and get it off your chest that way instead of throwing fists around and breaking things. 

I'm even playing soccer again. Ken and I are going to meet for a quick game tomorrow afternoon. Takeru is going to attempt to be the referee. I'm going to see if I still have mad skills on the soccer field, and if I don't, I'm going to get them back. 

He's proud of me. I can see it when I smile and he smiles so wide his face looks like it's broken in half. I can feel it when he squeezes my shoulder gently after we're done eating lunch in the school cafeteria. I can hear it in his voice when he says, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" after going to the mall with Miyako and Hikari. It makes me happier than anything, knowing he's proud of me. If I'm worth his pride, then I'm worth anything and everything. 

When I get home this afternoon, I'm not going to lay numbly on my bed, staring at the wall with the lights, fan, and TV off, listening to depressing music on my CD player. I'm going to get home and watch that hilarious TV program Takeru showed me, and then I'm going to get ready for our date. 

I don't need to be sad anymore. I have a reason to be happy. 

Takeru is my reason to be happy, and that's why he's my hero.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Time's up!" 

Daisuke glanced up at the teacher, and then at the clock, seeing that time truly was up. Students began to pass their papers to the front so the teacher could go by each row and collect them all. Daisuke carefully wrote his name and the date at the top of the paper, handing it to the person in front of him. 

On the chalkboard, the teacher erased the large letters reading, "Essay Topic: Who is your hero? Why do you think he/she is your hero?"

"Well, that concludes your final exam. I hope all of you have great summer vacations. Don't forget to give me the index cards with your names and addresses on them, along with thirty cents, or you won't get your final report cards. Oh, and be careful over the summer, will you? Don't drink and drive."

Students mumbled their goodbyes to their teacher as the bell rang for the last time that school year. Daisuke got to his feet and began walking towards the door. Before reaching it, he turned and went back to the teacher.

"Sorry for the cursing," he said. "And I think I might have given you a bit too much information."

The teacher raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the test essays. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

She sighed. "Next time, don't make it so personal."

"Right."

He bid her farewell and walked out the door, grinning to himself. She was going to freak out when she read about Takeru and him having sex. However, Daisuke wasn't one to hold back when asked to do something, and she _had_ asked to give details as to why Takeru was his hero.

"Hey, Daisuke!"

He turned and his grin softened into a smile as he watched the blonde angel jog up to his side. 

"How was your final?"

"I think I'm going to do great."

"Really? Awesome! I don't know how I'm going to do, but-"

"You're going to pass with flying colors, you know that."

Takeru grinned and continued, "-but I'm sure I'll do fine."

Daisuke rolled his eyes. Takeru laughed and slipped his arm through Daisuke's. 

"Are we still on for tonight?"

Daisuke smirked. "Of course we are."

"Good," Takeru said, nodding. He ran his fingers over Daisuke's wrist, tracing the skin that protruded slightly from the skin around it. He closed his hand around the thin wrist, touching his thumb to his index finger easily. Daisuke fought the urge to roll his eyes yet again at the daily did-Daisuke-get-any-fatter? test. Takeru frowned lightly and Daisuke sighed. Takeru looked up at him and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. I don't know why I do that."

"Yes, you do," Daisuke said patiently, "but I forgive you."

He reached a hand up to ruffle Takeru's hair. Takeru gave a squawk of protest.

Daisuke ran as Takeru began to chase him, deliberately running slow so he never quite caught up with Daisuke. Daisuke stopped abruptly, breathing heavily though he'd only run a dozen or so steps, and laughed as Takeru made a show of being just as exhausted. 

Takeru swung an arm over Daisuke's shoulders and immediately began discussing what their date would entail. Daisuke offered up ideas when Takeru trailed off in his fast, nonstop plotting. While they walked, Daisuke stared at the boy beside him. 

Takeru stopped talking yet again as he groped in his mind for another idea, and Daisuke took the opportunity to lean over and lightly place a kiss on Takeru's cheek close to his mouth. 

"My hero," he said softly.

He began walking again, vaguely aware of the fact that Takeru had stopped in his tracks immediately after hearing Daisuke call him his hero. 

"What?" Takeru asked once he'd caught up again.

Daisuke looked him over. His deep blue eyes were shining in the way they always did when the blonde was excited about something (in this case, he was excited about their planned date), his hair was messy after being blown around in the light wind during their walk, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. He had never looked so adorable to Daisuke.

"Nothing," Daisuke smiled. He slipped his hand into Takeru's and immediately took up where the blonde left off planning their date, and soon Takeru was the one offering up ideas in the brief silences in which Daisuke took long breaths. 

Takeru never asked him what he meant that day, when he had called the blonde his hero. Daisuke had the feeling that Takeru already knew what he meant. 

And when, at the end of the night, after their date was over and Daisuke was driving Takeru back to his house, Takeru leaned over and whispered that Daisuke was his hero, Daisuke did not ask him why. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to know. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew why. However, at the moment, all he cared about was how close Takeru's body was to his, how he could just catch the scent of the blonde's cologne in the air, and how the blonde looked so beautiful smiling gently as he stared dreamily out the car window at the black night sky. 

He dropped Takeru off at his house. Takeru leant over to give Daisuke a soft kiss on the lips, whispered a goodnight, and walked up the driveway to his front door. Daisuke watched him disappear into the house and smiled when Takeru paused just outside the door to turn around and blow him a kiss. He turned back to his steering wheel and shifted back into Drive. Taking one last look at the house, where he watched as the light in Takeru's window came on, signaling that Takeru was once again safely at home, Daisuke pulled away from the curb and relaxed back against his seat as he drove on down the dark road, setting his mental destination as "home."


End file.
